|
[24 Sep 2007|01:55am] |
My Dearest George,
sometimes i lie and try to tell myself that i don't miss you
nearly as much as i do, sometimes i try and tell myself, that you
really didn't love me, or there really a connection, that i made it all
up because for some reason i'm obsessed with making my life seem like a
movie or something, stupid i know, but i think you saw it too, you saw
everything.
and i went to bed thinking about Buddy, but for some reason that lead
me to thinking one of the things i know to be true, if you were here,
and i could tell you, i know that your the only one who be able to make
sense of the whole situation, you would understand, and believe me, you
understood everything.
that lead me to needing to wear my ring, which lead me to trying to cry
myself to sleep, and instead i just cried myself downstairs to type to
you a letter that you will never read, because your gone.
and i swear to god i feel like your dead.
i feel like i'm mourning your death as well, like when i closed my eyes
you were here, and then i opened them and you were gone, and now i
can't stop looking for you, or me, or us, and it hurts Bry, it hurts
all the time, and when it doesn't hurt, then i don't feel anything at
all.
and now its starting to be fall, and i remeber this one time when you
came upstairs at 8 in the mourning, and woke me up with the biggest cup
of coffee, and told me to get ready.
so i woke up, and kissed you, and i pulled on some cloths (i remeber
exactly which ones) and then i sat on the floor and started to do my
hair, and you layed on the bed behide me, like you always used to, and
you talked to me, and told me when i missed a spot or two, and then we
drove the long drive to your dads house, talking about music, and fall,
and whatever else, and we spent all day in your dads bed, with the nice
cat and the huge picture window, and the light, and the cold, but you
kept me warm, you were always so so warm, and i woke up just in time to
tell you we needed to leave, but what i didn't tell you, is that i
never wanted to.
i know in my heart and in my soul that there was a time when you loved
me, when you wanted only me, and no one can take that away from me, i
like to think it lasted until the last day that i saw you, even though
i know that it started to fade, as time went on.
and i've become obsessed with the last thing you said to me, or what
you would have said on that last phone call i missed, i can't remeber
if you said "i love you" or if you said "i'll talk to you soon" i do
remeber that i kept joking that i wouldn't see you for 20 years, and
that i think it was annoying you, i also remeber you were taking out
peices of pretzels to make them into hearts before you handed them to
me, and i remeber the first time i hugged you, and how happy i was when
i walked down the hall and you were leaning into my dinning room.
sometimes i want someone to just sit me down, and say, "tell me
everything, every story, and every feeling that you can remeber" but
then i know who i want to tell them all too, and i know that your not
coming back.
your not coming back.
your not ever coming back.
and now i'm alone, and maybe i always was, but even as i type that i know it isn't true.
i see jimmys everywhere, and they are always black, and i always
strian, and wait until i can see the rust spot on the back, but the
backs are always smooth and black.
i remeber the day you showed me the rust spot, like a day or a week
after you bought the fucking car, we were hanging out after school, and
you showed it too me, and you were pissed, it was so so small.
it's gotten a lot bigger.
and there were times when i thought you were the only one for me, when
we were so connected, and you were my best friend, you were my whole
world, and then there were times when i didn't know you at all, and
those times made me hate you, but sometimes the other times made me
hate you too.
and now i try to tell myself that you just couldn't deal, that it was a
lot to take on, i know i'm a lot to take on, but there is so much of
this situation that i just can't stomache...like the fact that i told
you about me that night, the last night, but you left anyways?
you just weren't like that.
i will never know what you would have said to me that friday when i was
working, and i will forever be making up stories in my head, i will
forever wonder if your alive, or with Caitlyn, or all alone, or if you
miss me, i hope you miss me, but clearly none of it is enough for you
to tell me your sorry.
clearly none of it is enough for you to throw rocks at my window, for
you to wrap me up in you, for you to kiss me all over, for you to send
my whole body into a series of shivers, for you to sit with me like we
used to, knees together, my head on your shoulder, and your head on
mine, whispering.
i know i'm going to hate the fucking fall without you, i hate everything without you.
i remeber when you agreed to go to my aunts house with me, after we sat
on my side porch for hours, you smoked, and we told eachother things
we've never told anyone else, and you told me you would drive to canton
with me, and i was so happy i almost cried.
and we pulled into my aunts neighbour hood, and it was fucking
beautiful, with the houses, and the leaves, and the trees, and you
said, "Hun, its like suburbia from hell." and i laughed, and we got out
of the car, and you took my hand.
and then i remeber the second to last time i saw you, the night before
i went to PA, we were having sex in your car, and i said, "i love it
how i act like i'm dying."
You: "haha, i know, but you'll be back."
Me: "i know..but its just like, i'm wicked lonely without you."
You: "really?!"
and i knew right then that you didn't feel it too.
i will always hate chocolate milk, and belly kisses, and your music,
and jimmys, panera bread, and late nights, the movie "waiting", and
those stupid coffee drinks, hair pulling, and bite marks, sometimes i
hate my bedroom, or my cloths, i hate having to wake up every mourning
and remeber that i will probably never see you again, i would rather
die then listen to jack blacks fucking band, or smell that stupid
candle you liked, or eating stupid snacks late at night, porch kisses,
and how no other fucking ring seems to sit on my finger the way yours
did, the cold of your necklace on my collar bones, or your warm skin,
or how on the last night i saw you, you told me that you loved the way
my skin felt on your skin.
all of it makes me fucking sick.
sometimes i can't even look at piggy without hearing you laugh and say, "nothing in the world is loved as much as that pig."
and you want to know what starting to hurt the most bry? how i can't
remeber what you smell like, i can't remeber how you laugh, or what you
sound like, sometimes if i don't look at your picture, i forget your
face, but i remeber what your body feels like, i remeber it like i'm
holding on to you right now, i remeber how your hair feels between my
fingers, sometimes i try to remeber what it was like when you were
here, and how after you left i still felt you for days.
and now that your gone i can't even think about sex, let alone sex with
another person, i told toni a couple days ago that i wanted to have sex
with a million other people, just so you wouldn't be special anymore,
but i think the truth is, i don't ever want to have sex with anyone
else ever again, i'm dying to hold on to every little bit of you i can,
and i don't know how i'm going to feel when one by one it all starts to
dissapear, like you.
fuck you. you knew i had trust issues, you knew i thought you would
leave or get bored, and then you fucking did, and you didn't even have
the fucking balls to say goodbye, you left me fucked up, and broken,
and with more questions then what i had when we started.
but you can't anwser them, and you never really could.
and its sick that i'm not mad at you right now.
its fucking sick that if you were outside right now, i would probably throw my arms around you, and tell you i missed you.
i missed you.
i missed you.
i miss you.
sometimes so much it makes me want to die.
and sometimes not at all.
and i will miss you forever.
and know that you know it, i know in my heart, and in my soul, that you know how i feel.
you always knew everything.
Love,
your fran.
|
|
